


Thestral Therapy

by crochetaway



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_creatures, F/M, HP Creature Fest 2020 - Quarantine Creature Comeback, PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26731867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: Hermione goes back to Hogwarts after the war, but when every student refuses to get onto the Thestral drawn carriages, she decides it's up to her to help the school heal.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 19
Kudos: 139
Collections: Creature Fest 2020 - Quarantine Creature Comeback





	Thestral Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: Thank you to the fest admins for hosting this fest! Thank you to my beta Fae Orabel for beta'ing this monster!**
> 
> **If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review! You can find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff or Facebook at Shan Crochetaway. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!**
> 
> **Disclaimer: This creation is based on characters and situations from the Harry Potter universe.No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended.**

* * *

Hermione Granger wasn’t sure how she felt about being Head Girl for what would technically be her seventh year of school, but in reality, would be her eighth year since entering the wizarding world when she was eleven. She didn’t want to take the honor away from someone in Ginny’s year, but Ginny assured her that none of the girls held a grudge against her for it. In fact, most of the girls in Ginny’s year wanted no sort of responsibilities. They had all the responsibilities they could handle the year before, what with trying to protect everyone who was younger than them, and attempting to not be tortured in the process. No, it seemed the seventh year girls were perfectly happy with Hermione Granger being the Head Girl.

There were other reasons Hermione wanted to turn the post down. She had horrific nightmares—PTSD, her parents called it. Despite the anger and disappointment they held for her actions, she was still their daughter. When they found out there was no equivalent to therapy in the wizarding world, they were appalled and bought every therapy book they could get their hands on to try and help their daughter deal with the lingering effects of the war. It wasn’t just the PTSD; when she found out Headmistress McGonagall’s reasoning in making her Head Girl, she wanted to decline.

“You’re best suited to do the job,” McGonagall had told her over tea at her parents’ home about a month before school began. “He’ll cooperate with you.”

“How do you know that?” Hermione asked belligerently. She didn’t want to be some babysitter for her final year of school. She wanted to study hard, get the most NEWT’s possible, and get the hell out of Hogwarts. It was going to be bad enough, going back to the place where so many of her friends had died. The last thing she needed was a permanent reminder of one of the people responsible for those deaths.

“It’s part of his probation,” McGonagall said. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you. I know too much has already been asked of you, Miss Granger. But you _are_ the best person to do this job.”

So much for an easy school year for Hermione. She probably could have gotten out of it if she had argued with Headmistress McGonagall long enough, but Hermione was tired. She was tired of fighting everything just to be allowed to… _be_. And part of her really hoped that McGonagall was right. That the Head Boy _would_ cooperate with her. Another part of her doubted it. This was the same boy who had worked to make her earlier years at Hogwarts miserable. Could he be so changed by the war?

She didn’t think so. Though it was true, she hadn’t seen him since the final battle, which seemed like a lifetime ago, but in reality, was only four months.

Harry and Ron had opted to not go back to Hogwarts, and some days Hermione wished she had done the same, but she knew that she needed the closure of her final year. She needed to see this thing that she had begun at age eleven through. And so she was off, to another year of school.

Ginny invited her into her compartment with Luna and Neville. Neville and Hermione were the only Gryffindors back for their last year. Neville was hoping to make it a hybrid year and double his final year of school with his first year of apprenticeship with Professor Sprout. Hermione wished she had thought of something similar. An apprenticeship would probably keep her busy enough that she wouldn’t have to worry about who the Head Boy was or what he was doing.

Although considering her babysitting duties, perhaps Headmistress McGonagall wouldn’t have allowed it either. That was a depressing thought.

The four of them passed the time on the way to Hogwarts speaking of light topics and playing the occasional card game. The train made Luna sick, so she could only play a hand here or there. Hermione wasn’t sure, but she thought this was a new thing for Luna. A war thing. They all had them. Neville was constantly looking out the window of the compartment as if he expected a Death Eater to burst in on them. Ginny had taken to wearing a forearm holster. Her wand only a wrist flick away, and she twitched at loud noises. Hermione had her nightmares. Even dreamless sleep didn’t touch them. She always woke up sweaty, panting, and with a hoarseness lingering about her throat that suggested she had recently been screaming. The silencing charm was her new best friend these days.

As the skies began to darken, they changed from their Muggle attire into their Hogwarts robes. Hermione left the compartment to do her duty as Head Girl and encourage the rest of the train to get changed as well. The train began slowing down with a jolt, and Hermione watched as Hogsmeade slid into view outside of the train windows.

At last, it came to a stop, the carriages rocking slightly as students poured out of their compartments, chatting and laughing. It put a smile on Hermione’s face to hear the laughter, even if it did feel more subdued than it had in previous years. Soon everyone was off the train. Hagrid was calling for the first years, and Hermione helped usher them toward the giant.

A first year stood frozen on the path, just outside of the train station, staring at Hagrid with big, round eyes.

“What’s your name?” Hermione asked. She crouched down so she could be level with the eleven year old, who was rather short.

“Elaina Fawley,” she whispered, shoving a strand of wispy black hair out of her face.

“Well, Elaina, I happen to know that Hagrid there is _the_ friendliest professor in the whole school,” Hermione told her. She looked over her shoulder and gave Hagrid a big wave. The deepening gloom didn’t help matters when about all you could see of Hagrid was the whites of his eyes in the lantern he held aloft.

“Alright, Hermione?” he called. She nodded and stood up, placing her arm on Elaina’s shoulders.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Hermione said. The girl looked up at Hermione and caught sight of her Head Girl pin. She gulped but seemed to trust Hermione implicitly as she nodded and turned to follow the rest of the first years. Once introductions with Hagrid were made, Hermione made a mental note to check on Elaina later, or send the eldest prefect to her if she wasn’t placed in Gryffindor.

With the first years settled, Hermione began making her way toward where the carriages would be pulling the rest of the school to the castle. The crowd didn’t seem to be moving at all though. Though the torches outside the train station were doing poor work of illuminating the way, there seemed to be some sort of commotion going on near the end of the train station. She began pushing her way through the crowd, sliding around elbows, and excusing herself between friend groups until she made it to the front.

Draco Malfoy, Head Boy, was kneeling in the dirt, with two second year Slytherins in his arms. One buried in each of his shoulders. His large hands patted their backs as he murmured to them. They were both crying, almost hysterically, and the sound caused a shiver to go up Hermione’s spine. It was haunting and all too reminiscent of the war.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she approached the group. Malfoy looked up at her, and her breath caught in her throat. Babysitter or not, he was a very good-looking man, and this wasn’t the first time she noticed it. She felt a blush rush to her cheeks, though she tried to valiantly fight it down. His ice-blue eyes caught hers, and he nodded toward where the Thestrals stood, ready to pull the carriages.

She swallowed a lump, seeing the huge beasts for the first time. Theoretically, she knew what they looked like; there were drawings of them, of course. And she had even ridden one a few years ago. She knew they were kind, gentle beasts, but they looked nightmarish. While they were horse-like and in an equine class biologically, other than their stature, they looked nothing like a horse. They were skeletal, and no matter how much they ate, their bones seemed to stick through their black skin. Their heads were almost entirely bone and the wings perched on their shoulders were those like a bat or a dragon, all skin stretched between bony ridges. Hermione suppressed a shudder as she saw them. She could understand why wizards found them a portent of death, even though that had been firmly disproved. Although, it wasn’t understood why they could only be seen after a witch or wizard had seen death.

When she turned back to the crowd, suddenly she understood what the issue was.

They could all see them. Every last student from the tiny second years all the way up to the eighth years.

She wiped a tear that had slid, unbidden, out of her eye. Why hadn’t she thought about this prior to now? Hell, why hadn’t McGonagall thought of this? This was… It wasn’t right. She wasn’t going to make the students face the Thestrals. Not right this moment. Not when they had just been laughing and life had felt normal.

Taking a deep breath she turned back to the Thestral herd. It wasn’t that long of a walk; they did it every Hogsmeade weekend. Walking to the closest Thestral, she placed her hand on its shoulder.

“Hey, boy,” she said when he started. He stamped his feet, and Hermione was reminded of the horses she used to visit as a young girl. Thestrals may not _look_ like horses, but their mannerisms were rather similar. Smarter though, she thought. He rolled a large black eye to look at her, and she offered him a watery sort of smile.

“We’re not going to need you tonight,” she said. “Bring the carriages back to the carriage house. Hagrid will get you all unhooked. I’ll have him bring you something extra tonight, too.”

The Thestral snorted and nodded its huge head. “I’ll get the students to come around, promise.” The Thestral nodded again, and when Hermione stepped back, he whinnied and took off at a trot. The rest of the carriages followed his lead.

“We’ll walk tonight,” Hermione said loudly, turning back to the students. “This was thoughtless on the faculty’s part. Malfoy and I will talk to the Headmistress about it before we go to bed.”

“Come on, you lot,” Neville said, breaking free of the crowd and beginning the walk up to the castle. He clapped her on the shoulder as he passed, and the rest of the students followed him. She offered smiles and small words of encouragement as the students streamed past her.

Malfoy hung back, the two second years still clinging to him, their cheeks still wet with tears, but their eyes were dry.

“Pansy’s sisters,” Malfoy said by way of explanation as they fell into step beside her. They followed the rest of the students silently. Hermione was sure the residents of Hogsmeade were watching them, she could practically feel the middle of her back itch, but nobody left their houses as the parade of students left the village and made it up the trail to Hogwarts.

* * *

The Welcoming Feast was over, spirits seemed somewhat restored and the Headmistress dismissed them all to their houses. Hermione spied Malfoy getting up with the rest of the Slytherins. She hurried over and put a hand on his elbow, getting his attention.

“We need to talk to Headmistress McGonagall,” Hermione reminded him when he gave her a cool look. The Parkinson twins eyed her from their spot on either side of him.

“Go on with the rest of the house,” Malfoy told them, encouraging them to follow the prefects who were leading the rest of the students out of the hall. Once the girls were on their way, he turned back toward her with a nod and stuck his hands in his pockets as he followed her up toward the head table where the teachers still sat, talking amongst themselves.

“You’re good with them,” Hermione said. She sounded surprised to even her own ears and winced, glad she at least wasn’t facing him.

He snorted a dismissive laugh. “Well, they’ve had a hard year and I’m a familiar face,” he said. His voice was quiet, and Hermione could barely hear him over the bustle of the hall.

“Yeah,” Hermione said absentmindedly as she caught Headmistress McGonagall’s eye. She lifted her eyebrow and swept her gaze over both Hermione and Malfoy.

“Can I help you two?” she asked as they mounted the steps to the head table.

“We were hoping we could discuss a few things with you,” Hermione said. She tried to keep her tone light, but she was angry. A PTSD symptom her parents would surely tell her, but it wasn’t just that. Sending the Thestrals out to greet a bunch of children who had just witnessed a battle only four months ago? It was heartless.

McGonagall pursed her lips, “Very well then.” Her voice stern and cold. She stood up and swept from the head table out a side door that led to a little used corridor. She hurried up a set of stairs, and suddenly they were across the hall from the gargoyle statue that guarded the Headmistress’s office.

Once the three of them were inside, Hermione’s fury abruptly let loose.

“How could you?” she accused, refusing to sit in the proffered chair, although she saw that Malfoy did. “Thestrals? Really, Headmistress? Entirely thoughtless. Not one person on this staff considered what that would do to these children? What it would remind them of?”

McGonagall looked taken aback for a moment before her face crumpled. “Godric,” she muttered. “That was inconsiderate of me. You’re right, Miss Granger.”

It was Hermione’s first glimpse that perhaps the war had affected everyone, not just the children, but still. It seemed so damned careless. “So nobody brought up the fact that having a bunch of Thestrals that are generally associated with death and ill omen would be a terrible idea for a bunch of still-healing children?”

McGonagall shook her head.

Malfoy snorted derisively again. “Figures,” he muttered.

“For once, I’m in agreement with Malfoy,” Hermione told the Headmistress. “We’re going to have to do something more than just the normal school year this year. You _are_ aware of that aren’t you?”

“I, well, I hadn’t considered…” she trailed off when Malfoy stood from his seat. McGonagall pushed herself to her feet, drawing her wand. Hermione looked behind her to see Malfoy’s arms crossed, his wand nowhere in sight. Was McGonagall afraid of Malfoy? Disgust for her former favorite professor rose in her chest like bile. So, Hermione was to babysit Malfoy, but McGonagall was afraid of him.

“It seems you haven’t considered much about this school year,” Malfoy said. His voice was as cold as Hermione had ever heard it.

“I…” she trailed off, sighing heavily and tucking her wand back away.

“Come on, Malfoy. Once again the adults don’t give a hoot about us students. We’ll figure it out, just as we’ve always done,” Hermione said, dismissing McGonagall entirely. She grabbed Malfoy’s arm and led him back out of the Headmistress’s office.

“She pulled her wand,” Malfoy muttered under his breath.

“Apparently, she’s scared of you.” Hermione laughed humorlessly. “It’s me she ought to be scared of. I was this close,” she held her thumb and forefinger up about two centimeters apart, “to hexing her for that stunt with the Thestrals.”

Malfoy offered her the slightest upturn of his lips at that but then frowned again, in thought this time. “What _are_ we going to do?”

Hermione sighed, she had been thinking it over during the feast. They could all benefit from some serious therapy, and since the wizarding world didn’t quite believe in therapy… well, it was up to them.

“Ever heard of therapy?” Hermione asked.

“Like when you need to strengthen muscles after an injury?”

“Sort of. I was thinking more along the lines of psychological therapy. Mind healing. For the whole student body. We could do it in groups. Have the eighth years facilitate if we can get them on board. I have some books—”

Another snort out of Malfoy. “Of course, you do.”

“They’re Muggle books because wizards apparently don’t believe in mental health awareness,” Hermione said just as snarkily as Malfoy’s snort. “It’s clear that the professors want to pretend the war never happened, but that’s only going to lead to re-traumatizing the students each time they do something stupid and thoughtless like the Thestrals. I’d like to come out of this year having a better handle on my PTSD, wouldn’t you?”

“PTSD?”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Hermione explained, “It’s a mental health disorder triggered by a traumatic or terrifying event. Almost anything can cause it, but a battle where lots of friends and family die? That’s almost guaranteed to cause it.”

“How do you know if you have it?” he asked, again so quietly Hermione had to strain to hear him.

She stopped walking and turned to face him. They were almost near the grand-staircase, where they would split off and go their separate ways. “Do you have flashbacks? Nightmares? Uncontrolled anxiety? Obsessive thoughts about the war?”

The way his eyes slid from her and he gulped, neither nodding or shaking his head, confirmed it for her. “Those are all symptoms of PTSD.” It wasn’t a question, so Hermione didn’t treat it like one.

She placed her hand on his arm. “I have it, too, Malfoy. Nightmares, specifically. I have to ward my room with silencing charms or I’ll wake up the whole neighborhood. Here, I expect I’ll try to weave a permanent silencing charm into my bed curtains so that the rest of my roommates can sleep.”

“Nightmares,” he said, catching her eye again. Again she was reminded of how good-looking he was. “And anxiety. I can’t sit still, I can’t be in a room too long without getting up to move. I can’t concentrate or…” He took a breath, looking away from her again.

“I’ve got a book that helps with anxiety,” Hermione said. “It’s got some cognitive behavioral therapy tricks to help ease the anxiety. It never really goes away, but you can retrain your brain to at least get some relief from it.”

“I… alright,” he said, facing her once more. “Let’s do it. Let’s help the rest of the students. I don’t want to spend the year with Pansy’s sisters clinging to my trouser legs,” he added with a bit of a laugh, his mouth quirking up only a little.

“Twelve year old girls aren’t your usual companions?” Hermione teased. For some reason, she wanted to see a bigger smile from him.

“No,” he said severely, though one side of his mouth did hitch up even higher.

“I’ll have it for you at breakfast in the morning,” Hermione said. “We can work up a schedule then, maybe have a post-breakfast meeting with the rest of the eighth years.”

“I’m the only eighth year Slytherin,” Malfoy said quietly.

Hermione sighed. “I know, I’m sorry you’ll have the biggest burden. I’ll help with the Slytherins as much as they’ll allow me to. Which actually reminds me. Elaina Fawley was sorted into your house. Can you check on her for me?”

“How do you know Fawley?”

“I introduced her to Hagrid, she seemed rather nervous.”

Malfoy nodded. “She’s an orphan, you know.”

Hermione winced. It was her turn to look away. “I didn’t, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Malfoy shrugged. “There’s a lot of them in Slytherin this year.”

She swallowed hard. The war did terrible things, no matter what side of it one’s family was on.

“I’ll check on her,” Malfoy promised.

“Thank you.” He gave her a nod and then headed down the stairs toward the dungeons. Hermione watched him go, glad to have a partner to help her with this process. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she hoped the eighth years, and maybe even some of the seventh years, would recognize just how important this was going to be.

She turned and headed in the opposite direction of Malfoy, trudging up the four flights to the seventh floor and the Gryffindor common room. She was ready for bed, although now it seemed she had a few hours worth of work to do before she could curl up.

* * *

The following morning found Hermione waiting outside of the Great Hall. “Eighth year meeting at the end of the Gryffindor table,” she told the few eighth years. She invited Ginny and Luna too, figuring they could help spread the word to any of the seventh years who were interested in helping them.

Once she had spoken to each of them, she went inside the hall too. The professors were eyeing their group warily, but Hermione ignored them. This was her school, these were her students, and she was going to do right by them, even if nobody else was.

“Alright,” Hermione said once she reached the table. She pulled out a study guide she had spent half the night creating, along with a stack of books. She had copied the most relevant books her parents had bought for her and passed them around. “We’re going to be doing group therapy for the entire school,” she announced.

“The professors aren’t prepared to handle this, but Malfoy and I feel it’s necessary. We aren’t going to let the younger years be traumatized over and over again this school year. We’re going to help them, give them the tools to help themselves. You aren’t required to help us.” She looked around at the small group. Only her and Neville were back for the Gryffindors. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott from the Hufflepuffs, and Lisa Turpin and Terry Boot from the Ravenclaws. Malfoy for the Slytherins and Ginny and Luna. She made eye contact with them all.

“But I think it will help you as much as it will help them. Read through the books I’ve given you. We’ll be dividing the years up; all the houses together to start with, then we’ll break out into smaller groups as the year progresses. Most importantly, us.” She twirled her finger around the group. “Our group therapy is first thing in the morning every Saturday. Then the rest of the day is spent on the other groups. We can move the days around as the school year progresses, but I’d like to keep it on Saturdays for the rest of September.”

“This is…” Neville trailed off, reading the book list again.

“A lot,” Hannah finished for him.

“It is, but are you telling me _you_ wouldn’t benefit?” Hermione asked. “Look at what happened last night with the Thestrals? Not a single person moved forward to get on one of those carriages.”

“Hermione’s right,” Ginny added. “We hid from the Carrows last year because it was what we needed to do; we had Dumbledore’s Army two years ago because we had to. We’re doing therapy this year because that’s what is going to heal our community. We’re the ones who had to fight the war, we’re the future of the wizarding world. Let’s heal the rifts our parents and grandparents spent all their time deepening.”

“I’m in,” Malfoy said, nodding to Hermione.

“Us, too.” Lisa spoke for both her and Terry.

“I’m in,” Susan said.

“Me too,” Hannah added quickly.

“Well, you’ve convinced me, I guess,” Neville said with a slight chuckle. “It would be good to talk about… it all. My gran,” he sighed, “she’d rather forget it.”

“That’s how McGonagall acted last night,” Malfoy confirmed. “If it were up to the professors, they would ignore it entirely.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Ginny replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder and sending a glare up to the head table.

“It’s how they were raised,” Luna said. “It’s how everyone in the wizarding world was raised until Harry and his friends came along.” She offered Hermione a smile. “You can always count on my help, Hermione.”

“It’s settled then,” Hermione said, beaming at the group.

* * *

The first week of classes did not go well. There were panic attacks and students refusing to go to certain parts of the castle. By the end of the week, only half of the student body even bothered to attend classes. It was an unmitigated disaster, and McGonagall was clearly miffed by the whole thing, judging by the look on her face when she pulled Hermione and Malfoy into her office.

“Don’t worry,” Hermione said, “we’ll be starting group therapy tomorrow. It’ll get better. The best thing you and the other professors can do is have some grace about it all. Stop giving out detentions if students don’t show up for class.”

“You’ve been giving detentions?” Malfoy asked incredulously.

“Mr Malfoy, may I remind you—”

“Headmistress McGonagall,” Hermione interrupted, her voice tight with irritation, “Malfoy is actually helping the students, not retraumatizing them. Perhaps you adults can just forget about the pesky little war we had last year, but I can assure you, it is much harder for us. We are trying our best. Let’s halt the detentions and perhaps let up on the workload a bit. Let’s ease into the school year, rather than pretending it's like any other year.”

“Miss Granger!”

“Save the lecture for someone else, Headmistress. Some of these students are orphans, did you even bother to think what it would mean for them come the Christmas holidays? Or Easter break?”

McGonagall sat back, looking confused.

“Of course, she didn’t,” Malfoy said with a sniff. “Something else for us to figure out Granger.”

“If there isn’t anything else, Headmistress, we have work to do,” Hermione asked, standing and turning to leave. She didn’t even bother to acknowledge McGonagall as she waved them out of her office. Part of her wanted to feel bad for McGonagall, this surely couldn’t be any easier on her than it was on them. The other part of Hermione, the part that wished there was someone to take care of her—instead of her having to take care of herself—was really, really angry with McGonagll, with the school governors, with the Ministry, with the entire leadership of the wizarding world.

“Granger,” Malfoy touched her arm, breaking her out of her reverie. They were standing in a little-used corridor off of the main corridor that led to the Headmistresses office. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Hermione said with a sigh. She rubbed the spot between her eyes, feeling another tension headache coming on.

“You were trembling.” Malfoy actually looked concerned, which took Hermione back for a moment. Did he care about her? Why?

“I’m just so bloody angry. All of the time. About everything.” Hermione explained. Even as she said it, she could feel her blood beginning to boil. “And let down. Why doesn’t anyone over the age of eighteen care about these children? I just… it’s so unlike what an adult in the Muggle world would do,” she said shaking her head.

“What would Muggle adults do?” Malfoy asked. He cocked his head in curiosity.

She huffed a humorless laugh. “Exactly what you and I are doing. Therapy for everyone, easing them back into their regular lives. Attempting to heal their wounds instead of retraumatizing them. Godric, don’t they know that we’ll be living with the scars of this war for the rest of our lives? Not just the physical ones,” she gestured at both of their left arms at that, “but the mental ones, too. PTSD isn’t just healed overnight. You could have flashbacks ten years from now, thirty, forty, even. It’s life long and an entire generation of children have it. Do you have any idea what that’s going to do to our world?”

“I don’t,” Malfoy said, “but I do know that once Hermione Granger sets her sights on something, she doesn’t give up until she’s accomplished her goal.”

Hermione frowned. “I… that’s true, I suppose, but I’m not trained in any of this, Malfoy. And I’m just as damaged as the rest of them. But I can hardly show them that, can I? This is all so bloody impossible.” She dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her temples.

Malfoy grabbed her wrists and pulled them away, so he could look her in the eye. “So tell me. I’ll be your therapist, or well, your listener at any rate. Tell me, but then show the world how strong you are underneath and do your damndest to help everyone else in this bloody castle. You’re probably the only one who can and our best hope at getting through this.”

“That’s a lot to put on one person,” she whispered.

“That’s what I’m here for. I’m in this, Granger. I’m going to help you in any way you need it. I…” he turned away and swallowed hard. “If I could, I would have each and every one of those orphans living with me. So that they would have a home, a good, stable, loving home.”

“Where are they staying?” Hermione asked.

Malfoy shrugged. “Depends on what family they have that’s alive and not in Azkaban. The Ministry has set up some sort of foster family situation, but from what I gather, the families aren’t well vetted.”

Tears began to well up in Hermione’s eyes and she pulled her wrists from Malfoy’s hands to dash them away. “It’s all too big. It’s too much. I-I can’t…”

Shocking them both, Malfoy pulled her in for a hug and she let herself cry into his chest. It felt both strange and yet right. Strange, that the boy who had made her life hell for so many years was comforting her, but right because this was also the boy who promised to help her. She could see over the last week how much he cared, at least about the Slytherins, but also, most of the younger students as well. And it meant a lot to her. She wasn’t sure Harry or Ron would have gone all in for this like Malfoy had. She had a feeling that they would act more like the faculty and want to forget it had all happened. But Hermione couldn’t forget. Forgetting the past was a dangerous thing.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured into his chest as her tears came to a slow stop.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Malfoy whispered into her hair. “Told you, I’m your one-man therapy stop. Anytime you need to rage or cry or just rant at someone who is willing to listen, come find me.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, pulling back so she could look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed as if he, too, had been crying, but they were dry, so she couldn’t be sure.

“It’s the least I could do.” He didn’t quite meet her eye.

“That doesn’t seem like entirely the truth.” She lifted her chin. She hoped he wasn’t going to stand here and lie to her.

“I should be the one apologizing to you, you know.” He dropped his hands from around her shoulders and took a step back, running a hand through his hair, tousling it. “I was a right git to you for years. I watched you get tortured in my own bloody house.” Hermione winced at that and looked away. “Fuck. Granger, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it—”

“No, it’s okay. Really. It happened. I’m working through it with my books and—”

“Your therapist.” He lifted one corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “It’s something I’m-we’re going to have to talk about at some point.”

“I’m ready when you are,” Malfoy said, looking her dead in the eye.

Her brow furrowed. “You’re so different.”

He scoffed. “I’m the same person, you just only knew me as a bully and an arsehole.”

“Maybe,” Hermione said with her own smile.

“We need to delegate,” Malfoy said. “Let’s put someone else in charge of the orphan situation. Longbottom maybe? His grandmother has a seat on the Wizengamot.”

“That-that’s a good idea. A really good idea. Maybe Susan or Hannah can help out, too.”

“There’s that brain you’re famous for, Granger,” Malfoy quirked a genuine smile at her and he looked so happy, so alive, that she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“I’ll get a time-table worked up,” Hermione said, getting down to business. “Therapy, orphans, anything else we need to add to our list of things to do?”

“Thestrals,” Malfoy said.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got a plan for the Thestrals,” Hermione said with a grin.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent in various groups, helping the eighth years facilitate the therapy sessions and reassuring almost everyone that this was a safe space and that crying was not only acceptable, it was almost downright encouraged. Hermione decided the Room of Requirement would serve as the therapy room. It could be made into several smaller, interconnected rooms for breakout groups, and it was easy enough to keep everyone together. She also liked that it was hidden away from the teachers. They wouldn’t find them unless they were truly looking for them.

While few students were ready to share their experiences, Hermione could already see some positive signs. As soon as they found their footing, they could break the groups into smaller ones. It was hard for them to share their experiences in front of every single one of their year mates. She hoped that breaking them into smaller groups, not aligned by house, would be more beneficial. She just needed the eighth and seventh years to have a bit more practice leading the sessions.

True to her word, she spent Sunday working up timetables. She wanted a weekly meeting with the therapy leaders to discuss progress, assigned reading, and any other issues. This was a meeting that needed to be separate from their own session of group therapy. She also wanted to discuss the orphan problem with Neville and the rest in hopes that they could tackle that as well.

Monday morning found the eighth years and almost half the seventh years at the end of the Gryffindor table once more. Hermione ate her porridge in a hurry so she could begin the meeting before classes started.

“The professors are watching us again,” Ginny said right before Hermione began. “Shall I give them the two finger salute?”

Hermione snorted. “No! Ignore them. Let’s show them how to really get things done around here.”

“Here, here,” Neville agreed, banging his goblet on the table.

“Here, here!” the rest of the group replied, also banging their goblets.

“Way to draw attention to us,” Malfoy muttered.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get started.” Hermione passed out the color-coded timetables to everyone. “This is something that’s subject to change, but I’ve linked them, so if I update the master, yours will change too.”

“Swot,” Malfoy whispered so quietly only she could hear it. She elbowed him in retaliation.

“We have the therapy mostly sorted. It’ll just be getting used to our roles and then we’ll break out into smaller groups. This Sunday, you’ll notice I have blocked out for everyone. We’re having a special Care of Magical Creatures class for the entire school. Hagrid’s agreed to teach it. It’ll be on Thestrals _and_ unicorns—”

“Why unicorns?” Terry Boot asked.

“They’re feel-good creatures,” Malfoy explained. “After the Thestrals, spending some time with the unicorns will make everyone feel better.”

“The more scientific answer is that unicorns release a pheromone that increases dopamine production in humans,” Luna responded.

Malfoy looked surprised at Luna’s explanation. She just smiled serenely at him.

“Right, so I’m hoping the lesson with Hagrid will help with the Thestrals, but I plan on having more if needed. The second thing we need to tackle are the orphans.”

“Orphans?” Lisa Turpin asked.

“Yes,” Malfoy said shortly. Hermione laid a hand on his arm. Most of the orphans were in Slytherin and she knew he took the entire problem quite personally.

“There is a large number, probably more than anyone knows. We need to find them, find out if where they are staying is safe for them, if its a place they _want_ to be, and if not, then we need to find a new solution.”

“Isn’t this something the Ministry handles?” Ginny asked.

“Like they’ve handled therapy for returning students at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked blandly.

“Good point,” Neville replied. “What are we going to do with the ones who need a new home?”

“I’m hoping you can help with that, actually. Your Gran still has her seat on the Wizengamot, right?”

Neville nodded. “I’m not convinced she’ll listen to me.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Hermione assured him. “Mostly, I want you to head the orphan project. Maybe someone could assist you. Susan? Hannah?”

“Because we also have family on the Wizengamot,” Susan said.

“Right in one,” Hermione replied. “Ministry influence is everything for a project like this. But the first bit is identifying how many, who, and which ones definitely need to be moved. I’ve been told there _is_ some sort of foster family situation, but that it might not be ideal. Obviously, for this year, we’re keeping any orphan who doesn’t want to go home for the holidays here. Malfoy and I will be staying in the castle for the duration.”

The rest of the eighth years also agreed to stay, which let Hermione release some of the tension she had been holding in her chest. She was worried the orphan project would put them over the top and they’d refuse to help, but looking around at the faces that surrounded her, they all seemed interested.

“Lastly, I want to thank you all. You didn’t have to get involved in this project, and it means a lot to me that you are all so invested,” she said, offering them a smile.

“They left the war to us, they are leaving the clean up to us, too,” Ginny said with a shrug. “Honestly? After the war, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t know about the rest of you, but my trust in government and adults, in general, has been severely eroded.”

There were nods of agreement all around.

“We’re the future,” Malfoy said. “So we should shape it into the sort of future _we_ want.”

“Here, here!” Neville said again, banging his goblet once more. This time the second cheer was much louder as the entire group, Hermione and Malfoy included, participated.

They missed the looks of concern that the professors exchanged.

* * *

The second week of classes went marginally better than the first. Though there were still students who missed classes when they were held in certain parts of the castle. Hermione was beginning to think that the entire Charms corridor was going to have to be moved to someplace else. There had apparently been a very deadly fight in that corridor that the Hufflepuffs were involved in during the final battle.

She wished she had known about it before; she only found out when a fourth year had stood shaking at the edge of the stairwell, unable to take another step forward. Hermione spent her own potions period comforting the fourth year and bringing her to Madame Pomfrey for a calming draught. It looked like another fight with McGonagall was in her future.

“Maybe we can just ask Flitwick,” Malfoy suggested when she mentioned it to him. They had taken to eating dinner every evening at the Slytherin table so they could debrief on the day. Mornings were breakfast with the entire group at the Gryffindor table. Evenings were just her and Malfoy.

“Think he would do it without approval from McGonagall?” Hermione speared a potato and chewed it while going over what sort of arguments she thought might appeal to the Charms professor.

“McGonagall has shown she either doesn’t have the capacity to do more or is incapable of doing more. So, let’s just cut her out of the equation entirely.”

“Alright. Let’s corner him after dinner tomorrow, he has his office hours on Friday evenings usually.”

“So nobody shows up,” Malfoy agreed with a small chuckle. Hermione smiled. She liked hearing him laugh. And she absolutely did not want to examine that thought further.

* * *

The next evening she and Malfoy left dinner together as usual, but instead of going their separate directions, both climbed the stairs to the third floor so they could find Flitwick at his office hours.

As expected, nobody else was in the corridor when they arrived outside of his office hours. The door was half-open and Malfoy knocked on the door frame.

“Come in!” Professor Flitwick shouted from inside. Malfoy pushed the door open further, and gestured for Hermione to enter before him. She gave him a small smile and entered the office. For a moment she thought she felt his hand pressed against the small of her back, but the gesture was so brief that she wasn’t quite sure if it actually happened or not.

“Miss Granger! Mr Malfoy! What can I do for the esteemed Head Boy and Girl?” Flitwick’s office was unlike his classroom, in that it was full of furniture for a man of his stature. His desk was quite small, and his visitors' chairs looked huge in comparison, though they were the usual size for chairs. “Sit, sit!” He gestured to the two chairs before his desk.

Once they were seated, he looked at them expectantly. Hermione glanced at Malfoy to see if he wanted to fight this fight, but he only raised an eyebrow at her. She was coming to know his looks quite well and that one clearly said that this was her show.

Taking a deep breath, she began. “Would you like to see increased attendance in your classes?”

“Of course, it’s been quite upsetting to see so many students skipping class,” the small Professor shook his head as if he didn’t have any power to do anything about this. Hermione curled her hands into fists because this was something she seemed to be running into over and over again. Adults acting as if they had no power to change things.

“Well, I think we should move your entire corridor,” Hermione said. “There’s the fifth floor, outside of the Transfiguration classroom, most of the classrooms on that floor are sitting empty. If we moved the three Charms classrooms to that corridor, I believe your attendance would improve.”

“Move the classrooms?” Flitwick looked bewildered.

“Yes,” Malfoy jumped in. “We’ll pack up everything in them and move them to the fifth floor. Anything in those empty classrooms will come down here. I believe there may even be an office, or a smaller classroom on that level as well, right Granger?”

Hermione nodded her agreement, glad that Malfoy had chimed in. Flitwick was still looking at them as if they each had two heads.

“But this has always been the Charms corridor. For as long as I’ve taught here. Over twenty years!” His protest was so feeble that Hermione had to fight to not roll her eyes.

“Professor Flitwick, if I may be blunt with you, during the final battle,” the Professor flinched at those words, sending his wheely chair rolling backwards until it hit the wall behind him, “there was a fight right here in this corridor. Most of the Hufflepuffs were involved and Heidi Macavoy died before the Hufflepuffs were able to overwhelm the Death Eaters entirely.” She took a breath to continue, but Malfoy picked up the thread then.

“Nobody wants to go to class where their friend died,” he said harshly. “It’s easy enough to move these classrooms to a different location and make an announcement at breakfast on Monday morning. Granger and I will even organize the move if you like.”

“Well, I’m not… Have you spoken with the Headmistress about all this? I just—”

“The Headmistress is the one who asked us to discuss this with you,” Malfoy said. It was the lie they had decided on if Flitwick pushed it. “Most of the Hufflepuffs have missed out on two weeks of your classes, they are only going to fall further behind if we don’t take action.”

“I guess if Headmistress McGonagall thinks this is the right thing to do…” he trailed off, looking at them skeptically.

“She does,” Hermione confirmed with a sharp nod. _Or she will when we tell her about it,_ she thought to herself.

“Alright then,” he seemed to think Hermione was the more trustworthy of the two.

“Excellent,” Hermione said with a tight smile. “We’ll organize the prefects to come help with the move on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Why not tomorrow?” Flitwick looked bemused.

“The prefects along with the rest of the school are busy tomorrow,” Malfoy responded. He stood, signalling the end of the conversation, and Hermione had to admire how well he did that. Knowing when to end a conversation with a superior and still seeming polite about it.

“Alright,” Flitwick said again, sounding less sure than ever.

“It’ll give you time to prepare for the move,” Hermione said. “I’m sure there are things you want to organize before then.” She stood and nodded to Malfoy who opened the door for her again.

Once they were safely in the corridor and far enough away from Flitwick's office, Hermione spoke. “That went better than expected.”

“He’s always been a pushover,” Malfoy agreed with a slight smirk. Old Hermione, pre-war Hermione, would have scolded him, but instead, she let out a light chuckle of agreement. “When exactly are we planning to tell McGonagall the entire Charms corridor has been moved?”

“I was thinking right before breakfast on Monday.” She couldn’t stop the smirk from crossing her face.

“I do believe my Slytheriness is rubbing off on you, Granger,” Malfoy said, his smirk blooming into a grin.

“Slytheriness isn’t a word,” Hermione responded with a sniff.

“Yes, it is,” Malfoy whispered right into her ear, making her shiver. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

The following day was therapy day. Instead of meeting in the Room of Requirement after breakfast, they met in the Entrance Hall. She had been up hours before breakfast, helping Hagrid to prepare for the lesson. He didn’t really understand why she was doing it, but knowing it was important to her was enough for him.

“All here?” she asked as Malfoy rounded up the last of the Slytherins.

He nodded, and they began moving their way through the crowd. “Follow us, please!” she shouted above the din and pushed open the huge front doors. She and Malfoy led the students down to Hagrid’s hut where she had set up some bleachers for the students to sit. She had mugs of hot chocolate on standby for the inevitable break downs. The Thestrals were nowhere in sight, nor were the unicorns. It was all part of her plan.

Once the students were settled, Hagrid came forward and began his lecture on Thestrals.

“Thestrals,” he began, and Hermione could see a visible shudder throughout the student body, “are a type of winged horse, though they don’t much look like horses except in the most general sense. They are real gentle and dead clever, but since they can only be seen by people who’ve seen death, most wizards associate them as ill omens.”

Despite his lack of schooling, Hagrid wasn’t a bad lecturer. He gave them the history behind Thestrals, their class, and even spoke about how useful they were, particularly to Hogwarts.

Once the lecture was over, Hagrid led a Thestral colt out from the paddock behind his hut. They had decided a colt would be easiest for most of the students. Hermione felt a deep satisfaction in her chest when she heard a few ‘aww’s’ from the girls. At Hagrid’s beckoning, she stood up from her seat in the front row and strode forward toward the cold.

Holding out her hand, she allowed the colt to sniff her and she smiled as he butted his head against her hand.

“They don’t feel much like horses,” Hermione said loud enough for the rest of the students to hear her, “but they are just as friendly.”

Malfoy came forward then, and when the Thestral colt butted against his hip in just as friendly a manner, the tension seeped from the rest of the students. Slowly, in small groups, they began coming forward. Hermione helped Hagrid lead several more colts and younger Thestrals out from the paddock for other students to get close to.

It wasn’t perfect, there were still a few students who were too timid to approach, but already, Hermione could see that this was helping. Once the Thestrals had been brought back to their paddock and the hot chocolate distributed, Hagrid began a short lesson on the ways unicorns affected human hormones. It was a NEWT level Care of Magical Creatures lesson, but she thought it important for them to realize exactly why they felt different in the presence of unicorns as opposed to Thestrals.

Once that lecture was over, Hagrid brought out several unicorns. This time everyone sighed and true smiles began to appear. The last remaining tension was released, and there was even some laughter as the students gathered around the unicorns, each hoping to pet a unicorn.

“This was inspired, Granger,” Malfoy said as he sat next to her on the bleachers.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. She turned to look at him and found he was smiling down at her in a way that made her heart positively flutter.

“You’re good at this,” he nodded toward where the students were clustered around the unicorns, laughing, joking with each other. Happy, even if only for a moment.

She shrugged, she wasn’t sure if she was particularly good at this or not, but she wasn’t about to let an entire generation of students be terrified of Thestrals.

“I’m going to have Hagrid move the paddock so that it can be accessed from the path down to the gates,” Hermione told him. “I think if they see the Thestrals more often, they’ll become accustomed to them.”

Malfoy nodded and bumped his shoulder against hers. “How are you, with everything else?”

“Today? Tired, mostly. I was up early helping Hagrid.”

“That was a surprise,” Malfoy said, “his lectures were both fairly spot on.”

“Had you stayed in Care of Magical Creatures past third year, you would have figured out that Hagrid got into a groove his second year teaching. He’s really quite good, you know.”

“I can see that,” Malfoy said with a small smile. “Someone else, I should no doubt, apologize to.”

She nodded in response. “Knowing that you need to is a good start. And I’ll help you if you’d like.”

Malfoy’s laugh was bitter. “Thank you, but I don’t need to add more to your load, Granger. I can apologize all on my own.”

She turned and beamed at him. “Good,” she said cheekily. “Now, would you fancy a stroll around the lake?”

His eyes twinkled at her and he nodded his acceptance. Standing quickly, he offered her his hand, helping her up and then tucking it into his arm as they walked in the direction of the lake. Hermione wasn’t sure how this year was going to end up, but she felt sure in her partnership with Malfoy. Between the two of them, they would get the rest of the students through the school year.

_**~Fin~** _


End file.
